I certainly didn't expect to have nearly 10 people interested by the end of the first day.
Here is where you meet Emma Gridley - the third person to drop us a line back in May. An actress living in London, keen to have a laugh, it took Emma and I a few months to finally sort out a day to meet up. The day arrived, and as I rode the train in to London Waterloo from Windsor, my nerves were more calm than they had been on my way to previous cups - a good sign I think...
As I waited under the big clock for the girl wearing a white top, shorts, and apparently having a really bad hair day - the nerves began to kick in a little. I positioned myself off to the side of the clock a little with my back to a wall - at least there I was protected, secure - I had a good view, had all the angles covered, couldn't be snuck up on. There is something odd about the feelings you get meeting a stranger for the first time, almost like you want to be the one to see them first, if for no other reason than to have that single moment to weigh up the situation, to have that moment to back out perhaps, if something doesn't feel right. I'd never back out of course, and I began to feel bad for needing so badly to have that moment to judge the person I would soon be meeting - so bad in fact that I left the wall. I left the zone of safety I had created and walked cautiously underneath the clock. What was I doing? The doubt began to kick in again I stood out there in open, scanning the station for the girl with the bad hair. How bad would her hair be? Maybe our definitions of bad hair were tragically different - maybe I'd approach the wrong girl and make a joke about her hair not being so bad - this whole thing was starting to feel like it could go very wrong...
A few meters away a young lady kept glancing over at me as she rocked her baby back and forth in its pram. Shorts, white top, and her hair wasn't brilliant... Could that be her? She didn't mention bringing her new born baby - oh god. Did Emma misunderstand? Did she think this was a date? Was she in search of a man to be a father to her baby?
I scan the room again, taking note of the nearest exits - planning my escape. And then I saw her. The 'real' Emma. I could see it in her eyes as they met mine and she gave me that 'you?' kind of look, mixed with an awkward finger point. I walked over to greet her, feeling a little foolish for letting my nerves get so carried away.
We walked through Waterloo, Emma taking her place on my left side (due to bad hearing in her left ear), and we got the necessary small talk out of the way as we made our way to the Southbank. We navigated the tourists flocking to the London Eye, and managed to order two cups of tea and a blueberry muffin from a small outdoor cafe at the Eye's base. Taking a seat on a nearby bench overlooking the Thames, we got down to business...
It's always difficult to reflect on the entirety of a conversation with a complete stranger - and somehow, over a cup of tea, the conversation tends to be rather comfortable. We talked for an hour or so, like old friends. Sharing stories, ideas, goals and aspirations - I confided in Emma that I often feel very average. Not that average is a bad thing, but I've always felt as if I lacked that one thing that I love more than everything else. That one thing that I am so naturally good that to not dedicate my life to it would be a complete waste. I guess that is why I have always struggled to pick a specific direction in life - to stick with anything for too long...
It was a quote that Emma cited from the film 'Matilda' that really hit me, more than any other aspect of our conversation...
"Everyone is born, but not everyone is born the same. Some will grow up to be butchers, bakers, or candlestick makers. Some will only be really good at making Jello salad."
Maybe I should give making Jello salad a go?
The point, though, is that maybe I am spending too much time searching outward for something to guide me, and not looking hard enough inward - at myself, at who I am. Maybe there is something that I am better at than anyone else.
Hell. Maybe having tea with strangers is exactly what I am here to do?
As 2:00pm approached - Emma had to be on her way to an appointment, and I too had to be on the train back to Windsor for work at 4:00pm.
Our meeting ended with a friendly goodbye, and of course, my thanks to her for being so willing to embrace my silliness - and I suppose she too was grateful, as she admitted that she finds it hard to break out of her shell sometimes - and saw meeting me as an opportunity to break out. I was happy to help...
And as I walked gleefully back to Waterloo - I realized that I had forgotten to take a picture! I had no proof of our meeting, of our lovely conversation, no memento to keep of our new friendship. I guess we'd just have to meet up another time I thought...
No! I needed a picture of this meeting! This moment was special to me - just as each meeting has been thus far, so I turned on my heels and a began to run. As I made chase across the footbridge, dodging tourists and men in suits, trying to catch up to Emma. And as I approached her, slightly out of breath, I realized that I was coming up on her left side - her deaf ear! Would she hear me? Should I call out? Surely this would be slightly creepy for her, meeting this chap for tea, and having him chase her as she made her exit...
I tried to slow to a casual walk as reached her - reaching out to tap her shoulder as casually as I could.
She spun around, clearly startled - and I stood there, clearly out of breath having just chased after her.
"I forgot to take our picture! Is it okay if I get one quickly?"
"Yeah, I guess!" she replied.
As I waited under the big clock for the girl wearing a white top, shorts, and apparently having a really bad hair day - the nerves began to kick in a little. I positioned myself off to the side of the clock a little with my back to a wall - at least there I was protected, secure - I had a good view, had all the angles covered, couldn't be snuck up on. There is something odd about the feelings you get meeting a stranger for the first time, almost like you want to be the one to see them first, if for no other reason than to have that single moment to weigh up the situation, to have that moment to back out perhaps, if something doesn't feel right. I'd never back out of course, and I began to feel bad for needing so badly to have that moment to judge the person I would soon be meeting - so bad in fact that I left the wall. I left the zone of safety I had created and walked cautiously underneath the clock. What was I doing? The doubt began to kick in again I stood out there in open, scanning the station for the girl with the bad hair. How bad would her hair be? Maybe our definitions of bad hair were tragically different - maybe I'd approach the wrong girl and make a joke about her hair not being so bad - this whole thing was starting to feel like it could go very wrong...
A few meters away a young lady kept glancing over at me as she rocked her baby back and forth in its pram. Shorts, white top, and her hair wasn't brilliant... Could that be her? She didn't mention bringing her new born baby - oh god. Did Emma misunderstand? Did she think this was a date? Was she in search of a man to be a father to her baby?
I scan the room again, taking note of the nearest exits - planning my escape. And then I saw her. The 'real' Emma. I could see it in her eyes as they met mine and she gave me that 'you?' kind of look, mixed with an awkward finger point. I walked over to greet her, feeling a little foolish for letting my nerves get so carried away.
We walked through Waterloo, Emma taking her place on my left side (due to bad hearing in her left ear), and we got the necessary small talk out of the way as we made our way to the Southbank. We navigated the tourists flocking to the London Eye, and managed to order two cups of tea and a blueberry muffin from a small outdoor cafe at the Eye's base. Taking a seat on a nearby bench overlooking the Thames, we got down to business...
It's always difficult to reflect on the entirety of a conversation with a complete stranger - and somehow, over a cup of tea, the conversation tends to be rather comfortable. We talked for an hour or so, like old friends. Sharing stories, ideas, goals and aspirations - I confided in Emma that I often feel very average. Not that average is a bad thing, but I've always felt as if I lacked that one thing that I love more than everything else. That one thing that I am so naturally good that to not dedicate my life to it would be a complete waste. I guess that is why I have always struggled to pick a specific direction in life - to stick with anything for too long...
It was a quote that Emma cited from the film 'Matilda' that really hit me, more than any other aspect of our conversation...
"Everyone is born, but not everyone is born the same. Some will grow up to be butchers, bakers, or candlestick makers. Some will only be really good at making Jello salad."
Maybe I should give making Jello salad a go?
The point, though, is that maybe I am spending too much time searching outward for something to guide me, and not looking hard enough inward - at myself, at who I am. Maybe there is something that I am better at than anyone else.
Hell. Maybe having tea with strangers is exactly what I am here to do?
As 2:00pm approached - Emma had to be on her way to an appointment, and I too had to be on the train back to Windsor for work at 4:00pm.
Our meeting ended with a friendly goodbye, and of course, my thanks to her for being so willing to embrace my silliness - and I suppose she too was grateful, as she admitted that she finds it hard to break out of her shell sometimes - and saw meeting me as an opportunity to break out. I was happy to help...
And as I walked gleefully back to Waterloo - I realized that I had forgotten to take a picture! I had no proof of our meeting, of our lovely conversation, no memento to keep of our new friendship. I guess we'd just have to meet up another time I thought...
No! I needed a picture of this meeting! This moment was special to me - just as each meeting has been thus far, so I turned on my heels and a began to run. As I made chase across the footbridge, dodging tourists and men in suits, trying to catch up to Emma. And as I approached her, slightly out of breath, I realized that I was coming up on her left side - her deaf ear! Would she hear me? Should I call out? Surely this would be slightly creepy for her, meeting this chap for tea, and having him chase her as she made her exit...
I tried to slow to a casual walk as reached her - reaching out to tap her shoulder as casually as I could.
She spun around, clearly startled - and I stood there, clearly out of breath having just chased after her.
"I forgot to take our picture! Is it okay if I get one quickly?"
"Yeah, I guess!" she replied.
Don't worry, Emma, your hair looks just fine...
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